


As much as I can take of falling

by lanyon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of <i>Iron Man 3</i>, Sharon is placed at Stark Industries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As much as I can take of falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caughtinanocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtinanocean/gifts).



> +Do check out the [Marvel Femslash Prompt Fest](http://troublesteady.dreamwidth.org/2013/06/16/marvel-femslash-prompt-fest-1.html), where you can anonly write for anon people, only to realise you've anonly written for an anon friend.  
> +Mild, mild spoilers for _Iron Man 3_ , with a tiny bit of comic crossover.  
> +Title from Girls Aloud's _The Promise_.  Shhh.

Sharon does not respond well to authority. Or short skirts. Or redheads. So that’s why she’s feeling slightly uncomfortable, standing in front of the desk of the CEO of Stark Industries, while wearing a short skirt. She’s not wearing panties. But that goes back to the redhead thing when Natasha tried to coax her into a red lacy thong while on a SHIELD-authorised shopping trip. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here,” says Ms Potts. She looks Sharon up and down, very slowly. “Miss Cartovic.”

Sharon doesn’t blink. 

“I know how SHIELD works. I know how _Tony_ works. I’ll allow you’re more his type but -” Ms Potts stands up smoothly. She’s wearing a pantsuit. Sharon wishes she was wearing pants. “Needs must, I suppose. Has anyone told you that you’re a terrible personal assistant?”

Sharon flashes a smile. “More often than you’d think, Ms Potts.”

“Pepper, please.” She’s standing right in front of Sharon now, her nostrils flaring slightly. She’s not as tall as Sharon; not when they’re both wearing six inch heels (and, yes, Sharon can run in them. She’s less sure as to whether she can run in the skirt, though).

“Now, Miss Cartovic - if that _is_ your real name - why are you here?”

“I can neither confirm or deny that there may be some fallout from Killian’s program,” says Sharon. “But if there were, I am precisely the sort of personal assistant you need.”

Pepper smiles. “Don’t underestimate me, Miss Cartovic.” 

“I think I’m the only one who doesn’t, ma’am,” says Sharon. She doesn’t mean to bite down on her lower lip but, yes, there it is; Pepper’s gaze flickers down to her mouth. “Your chief of security is still down for the count.” It’s common knowledge that Hogan is on long-term leave and is, apparently, pursuing a romance with the intensivist who nursed him back to health or whatever. 

She takes a step forward. “Your security, even in his absence, is excellent, Pepper.” She blushes, slightly at her unintentionally informal address. “But machines are predictable.”

“And men aren’t?”

Sharon laughs. “Oh, men are more predictable still. Women, though-”

“-inscrutable,” says Pepper. She runs her finger down the centre of Sharon’s throat. Oh, they’re that close. Oh. 

Pepper’s lips are soft. She wears red lipstick. Sharon wants to smear it all over her face. Pepper’s hand trails lower and lower still and now she’s toying with the hem of Sharon’s skirt, her knuckles grazing over Sharon’s thigh. 

Sharon blinks and the lights dim or, rather, Pepper’s hit some switch on the desk behind her and the blinds have lowered. 

“Jarvis?”

_Yes, Ms Potts?_

“Radio silence for thirty minutes, please.”

_Of course, Ms Potts._

“That’s a neat trick,” says Sharon. 

Pepper smiles. “Sharon Carter. Agent 13- Unlucky for some?”

“Not for me.” Sharon know that her own smile is bright and brittle. She shouldn’t be surprised that Pepper Potts knows so much.

Pepper’s lips are soft, touching the corner of Sharon’s mouth. “May I?”

Sharon’s response is to kiss back and it is hungry and desperate in its own way. Pepper’s lips wrap around Sharon’s tongue briefly and then she is trailing kisses down the side of Sharon’s throat. 

“Oh,” says Pepper. Her fingers are gliding up the insides of Sharon’s thighs. “Oh-”

“I thought a VPL would be unprofessional,” says Sharon. 

Pepper tilts her head back and laughs. She pushes Sharon back, one step at a time, until Sharon sits down hard on the couch. Sharon pulls up her skirt, hiking it up to her hips and Pepper sways gently on the spot, like a charmed or charming cobra, before she sinks to her knees. 

She peppers light kisses up Sharon’s thighs and spreads them apart and Sharon’s fingers are clenching on the couch cushions as Pepper licks her way in, parting Sharon’s folds with her tongue. 

Sharon moans and her hips rock shallowly, her abdominal muscles tensing beneath the white silk shirt she’s wearing. She relinquishes the couch and buries one hand in Pepper’s hair while she rubs at one of her own nipples, sighing with pleasure. Pepper pulls back enough to smile, to blow lightly over Sharon’s cunt, to suck at her clit and her red lipstick is smeared on her face. 

“Don’t stop,” Sharon says, or gasps, or thinks and Pepper gets it and eats Sharon out like a fucking professional. She is a professional, of course, is Pepper Potts. She’s one of the most powerful women in America. 

She’s perched on the coffee table after and Sharon’s skirt is still hiked up and Sharon’s rubbing herself idly, shivering a little at the aftershocks. 

“Tell Nick Fury that I have no objection to your placement here,” says Pepper. “But, in future, if he wants to send in a mole, he asks me first.”

Sharon smiles and stands up and sinks down onto Pepper’s lap, straddling her hips. 

“I could tell him, or I could tell Daisy Johnson.”

Pepper looks confused.

“You of all people should know that women rule the world, Ms Potts.”


End file.
